


Inhale, Exhale

by Manickmondays



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, Smoking, implied sex, this is an au for sure but I couldn't tell you what it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4662234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manickmondays/pseuds/Manickmondays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You got a light, kid?" The stranger says to you.<br/>"Don't smoke. Sorry."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inhale, Exhale

_Click click click._

"You got a light, kid?" The stranger says to you.

"Don't smoke. Sorry."

"The cigarette in your hand says otherwise." He's caught you in your lie so you laugh nervously and pass your lighter. You try not to notice how the smoke curling in front of his face makes him look, and how that makes you feel.

"Going somewhere?"

"Anywhere but here I suppose."

"Can I take you there?" You dodge his sly look and his wicked smile and the glint in his blue, blue eyes. You make to decline 'no the bus will get me there just fine' but there's a hand on your arm and before the words even leave your throat you're straddling the motorcycle, waiting for him to take you anywhere. And he does. If you have to button your shirt a little higher than normal so your boss doesn't ask questions, well that's your business, isn't it?

You don't expect to see him again. The city is full of smokers on bikes. The city is less full of attractive men who fit that description, but still. It’s an awful big world and you're just one person. You have plans to leave anyway. He just postponed them. So you sit at a bus stop, one hand holding a cigarette, the other clenched around a backpack handle. It’s all you care to keep in the world and it isn't a whole lot. This city has not been kind to you. But as the sun sinks low in the sky and creates a tapestry of color that you bitterly remember is because of pollution a familiar voice rumbles behind you.

"You got a light, kid?" This time you don't lie. And this time you don't ignore the way the flame dances in his eyes and how that makes you feel.

"I don't do this a lot." You say, gesturing to the both of you.

"What, hopping on a stranger's bike and taking a chance with him?" It’s not what you meant, but yes.

"No. Smoking I mean. 'S only when I'm nervous."

"Then kid," He takes a long drag, pausing to scan the city and exhale. "You've got some issues." He's not wrong, but you don't admit that. "You still going anywhere but here?" You nod, anticipating his next question. "Can I still take you there?" There isn't a moment’s hesitation this time when you wrap your arms around his chest and let him take you anywhere.

The next morning you don't slip out with the barest hint of an excuse and you don't button your shirt any higher because there's no more boss to answer to. You let him wake you up with a kiss and a smile and a cup of coffee, which you accept- though you'd much rather have tea. You hate how stereotypical that is, so you don't mention it. The coffee is warm and sweet and delivered to you in bed by a very attractive man, so really, who are you to complain?

He asks if he'll find you at that bus stop tonight, still heading anywhere, but you don't know the answer. You'd like to say yes, because that has been your plan all along and if not for him you'd be long gone, chasing your dreams in another deadbeat city. But something in his eyes makes you want to stay. There's an unspoken promise that he'll make it worth your while, make you love the city again. You almost want to let him.

Three months go by and you haven't been to the bus stop. He has learned that you like tea and brings you a mug every morning. He's shown you a side of the city you never knew existed, a side some people might call the underbelly, but it’s more full of life than the high rise office buildings you used to work at. People follow their dreams there and you do things you never thought you would. He convinces you to get a couple tattoos, though you draw the line at a tramp stamp that says "Anywhere.”

He shows you what the sunset looks like from the top of an apartment building instead of a dingy bus stop, but you're too lost in his eyes to take notice of the color of the sky. You work at a club with him; he tends the bar with more flair then you ever thought possible and you love the way he makes you something new to try at the end of every night. It's the first time you associate him with the word love and it doesn't terrify you the way it should. Instead it feels right, like a word that should have been there a lot sooner.

A week later you say it, as his lips are making marks down your neck. You expect him to freeze at the confession, but he simply murmurs it back in into your skin as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Six months pass since you sat at that bus stop and you start to consider staying. You've kept a backpack ready to go, and a note folded up in the front pocket.

But all of a sudden the bag weighs at your mind and you unpack it, integrating your possessions into his space and you don't miss the significance of it. You do miss the sound of him leaning on the door frame and watching you before he speaks.

"Moving in?" His smooth purr makes you jump.

"Thought it was time." He nods, accepting your explanation.

"Make yourself at home." There's more caring in his tone than you're used to and it makes something stir in your gut that doesn't stop until the next morning. You get up before he does and sit out on the balcony, letting the tea fight the early morning chill as smoke drifts from the cigarette dangling from your fingers.

"I'd ask you for a light but I think I know the answer by now."

"I don't like the way you taste when you smoke."

"I don't like the way you act when you think you need to. Something's wrong." Something is, but you brush it off with a chuckle and a pass of your lighter. You sit in silence with him for a while, the smoke mingling with the steam from your tea and the morning fog.

"Seriously, though. Something is wrong. You haven't smoked in weeks. Why now?" You take a sip of tea as you try to voice why exactly it is that you've picked up your habit again.

"I planned to leave this city six months ago. To leave and never look back and here I am watching the sun rise over the same buildings I have for the past ten years. I don't know how to feel about that."

"You unpacked your bag."

"Don't know if I want to stay though."

"I hope you stick around for a while." You half expect to turn and find him on one knee, but when you do turn and he isn't you dismiss the thought. He's just looking at you expectantly. When you lose yourself in the sunrise instead of responding, he kisses your cheek and tells you that when you're ready he's made breakfast.

The bag stays unpacked.

You don't end up leaving after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Well ok. Idek what this is tbh but it sure was fun! Just wanted to play around with POV/tense/style and I couldn't avoid putting Freewood in it. Come talk to me on tumblr at [m4d-m4x](http://m4d-m4x.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
